Riding astride over a lava bed near Hekla my pony fell, the girths gave way, and saddle and I turned round together. It was a nasty fall on my head and I was stunned. Alec appeared—from goodness knows where—to pick me up. I have ridden since I was seven, generally on a side-saddle, but in Iceland, Morocco, and Mexico astride, and only two falls have been my lot, this and another from a side-saddle in Tangier, when my horse, climbing a steep stony road, strained and broke the girths and I fell on the off-side.
It was not till we were coming into the Firth of Forth many weeks later, just before landing on the quay where I had stormed and raged, that Alec Tweedie said:
“There is Edinburgh Castle, have I kept my word?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Have you any fault to find with anything I have said or done during the trip?”
“No,” I murmured.
“Have I kept my promise in the letter and the law?”
Again I had to answer “Yes.”